


After the Veil

by poisonisley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, One Shot, Post - Order of the Phoenix, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonisley/pseuds/poisonisley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had a chance to change things in this – was it the past? A dream? The afterlife? Whatever it was, he wanted to do things right. Wormtail, be damned." </p>
<p>A one-shot concerning Sirius Black after death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Veil

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling; therefore I do not own her lovely characters.

****

** After the Veil **

 

                  “ _Sirius!”_

                  Sirius was vaguely aware that Harry was shouting for him, and he wondered why that was. He had never ignored Harry before, but something was different. This time, Sirius did not feel the need to shout back. Or perhaps he thought Harry would not hear him if he did.

                  “ _Sirius!”_

                  He wondered when Harry would realise that he was gone. Who would explain the Veil to him? Dumbledore seemed the most likely candidate, but would Harry listen? The boy had a temper sometimes.

                  _Like mother like son_ , Sirius thought wryly.

                  He remembered what had happened... mostly. He knew that he had stepped in to duel Bellatrix when Tonks had fallen. He knew that he had gained the upper hand. But he also knew that he was overconfident, and that he and Bellatrix were, in truth, an even match. Just when he thought that she would finally give in, she had sent him the Killing Curse, perfectly gift wrapped and meant to please. He supposed that the pleasure had all been hers.

                  He seemed to be floating through nothingness. His eyes were closed, and he felt almost tired. He hummed “Odo the Hero” to himself as he drifted. He wondered if he would continue to drift for eternity. He could not. He would go mad.

                  Suddenly, he felt a firm surface under his back. He was lying on something. He reached out and felt around him. The surface was soft and strangely warm, as if he had been lying there for hours. He discovered a pillow under his head. Sheets were tucked around his trim frame, enveloping him in a cocoon of linen. Extending his arms further, he found the edge of the bed and wall. He opened his eyes.

                  He was in a familiar room. The walls were a pale gold and there were scarlet hangings. The curtains had been tied back, allowing light to stream through the windows and pool on the floor. There were Quidditch posters on the wall, and a painting of a cat. It purred softly in its frame.

                  But he was dead. He knew that for a fact, so how could he possibly be here? He thought perhaps that he was dreaming. Yes, that was it. A dream. A long lost, wonderful dream.

                  But could the dead dream?

                  Before he could ponder this newest question, a voice called out to him.

                  “Sirius!”

                  He knew that voice. He had spent seven years at school with that voice. He had been yelled at countless times, reprimanded for hosting loud parties in the common room, and called immature by that voice. He had been at its wedding.

                  Lily appeared at the door with an armful of presents. “Oh, you _are_ up.” she said, grinning. “James said I might have to pour water on your face.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then again, he might have _wanted_ me to pour water on your face.” She shook her head, amused.

                  Sirius stared. He did not understand what was happening. Of course, this could all be perfectly normal. Maybe everyone went back to better days when they died. How should he know? It was not as if people could report back from the grave.

                  Lily raised her eyebrow and put a hand on her hip. “Are you coming, or not? Harry’s just woken up and-”

                  “Harry?” Sirius croaked.

                  “Yes. Harry. Your Godchild.” She marched up to Sirius and put a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe you drank too much firewhiskey...”

                  “No, no, I’m fine.” Sirius said, grinning. He sprang out of bed and skidded out into the hallway. He looked back into the bedroom in time to catch Lily rolling her eyes. _Just like old times_ , he thought. He offered her his arm, which she took, and they descended the great wooden staircase together.    

                  “No, Harry! No, you cannot have Daddy’s wand!” came a shout from the kitchen. Lily and Sirius glanced at each other and grinned. They pushed open the door and found a mess.

                  Harry was in his chair, beating the tray with a spoon and giggling happily. James stood in front of him, covered in food. He held the jar out to Lily and gave her his signature crooked grin. She sighed, took the jar, and settled herself into a chair next to Harry. He gave her a one-toothed smile as she began murmuring to him, spooning applesauce into his mouth.

                  James waved his wand and the kitchen was clean again. He turned the wand on himself and the applesauce in which he had been coated disappeared. He ran a hand through his hair and stood next to Sirius. “So what do you think?” he asked.

                  “I think I like being dead.” Sirius said without thinking. James gave him an odd look, like he had transformed into the giant squid. Sirius cleared his throat. “I mean, what do you mean ‘what do I think’?”

                  “About the toy broomstick,” James muttered, “Do you think Lily will skin you alive, or do you think she’ll go along with it?”

                  “Toy...? Oh! The toy broomstick. She’ll be nervous, but she won’t mind it so much.” 

                  When Lily had successfully given Harry his breakfast, they took him to the sitting room and sat him down in front of a large pile of presents.

                  “Happy birthday!” they said.

                  Harry looked up at them questioningly before pulling the nearest gift to him and beginning to chew on the corner of the box.

                  “Teething,” James said wisely.

                  “Look, Harry. Like this.” Sirius sat down in front of the baby and peeled back a piece of the now-soggy wrapping paper. Harry’s eyes lit up and his little fingers scrambled to copy Sirius.

                  It seemed too good to be true. Sirius sat back and watched Harry pull at the paper. He wanted to know that this was real. He wanted to know that everything would be okay, that it would last.

                  Gradually, Harry unwrapped a toy Snitch, a stuffed dragon, and a play wand that lit up when he waved it. As the pile began to dwindle, James nudged Sirius with his elbow. “Broom,” he whispered.

                  Sirius nodded and heaved himself to his feet. He crouched down and groped behind the sofa, searching for the parcel that he and James had hidden from Lily. Finding it, he tugged it free and held it up over his head. “Look what Uncle Sirius has!” he said in a sing-song voice.

                  The package was so obviously broom-shaped, that Lily had rounded on him in seconds.

                  “Is that honestly what I think it is?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

                  “Maybe,” Sirius shrugged his shoulders and set the parcel in front of Harry.

                  The little boy tore at the paper, his laughter bouncing around the room. As he removed the last of the wrappings, his eyes widened. He smacked the broomstick enthusiastically and looked at James.

                  “Oh, look, Lils, he wants to ride it now.” Sirius stuck his tongue out at her.

                  She could not help but smile. “If he hurts himself, I’ll shove that broom up your-”

                  “Hey, I think Dumbledore’s here!” James said loudly.

                  Sure enough, when Lily and Sirius made it to the front hall, someone was knocking lightly on the front door. They opened it to find their old Headmaster standing on the doorstep, looking ancient and exhausted, but merry.

                  “Good morning!” he said cheerily.

                  “Morning, sir,” Sirius said, saluting.

                  “Come in, Professor.” Lily said as she stepped aside.

                  They led Dumbledore into the sitting room, where James was teaching Harry how to catch the toy Snitch. It was much larger and slower than a real Golden Snitch, and it hung in the air in front of Harry, inching away from him. They watched as Harry reached out a tiny hand and grasped the ball, pulling it back.

                  “A natural,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “Happy birthday, Harry.”

                  The child smiled up at him, his eyes twinkling, before re-focusing on the Snitch.

                  Dumbledore turned to James, a solemn look in his eyes. “I am afraid that we need to increase the protection that has been placed around your family.”

                  “Have they found us?” James asked quietly.

                  “No, not yet, but they are close.”

                  Lily picked Harry up and clutched him to her chest. Sirius put a hand on her shoulder. He knew what was coming next; he had lived this day before.

                  “I believe that the safest, most effective route to take would be the Fidelius Charm.” Dumbledore continued. “You will need to choose a Secret-Keeper to protect the location of the house.”

                  Sirius stepped forward. “I’ll do it,” he said, “I’ll be their Secret-Keeper.”

                  “Are you certain, Sirius? It is a very heavy responsibility.” Dumbledore said. He stared into Sirius’s eyes, searching for the strength that would be needed to keep such a secret safe.

                  “Yes.”

                  Dumbledore looked at Lily and James, and smiled softly when he saw that Harry was tugging his mother’s red hair. “If that is agreeable to you, I suggest that the charm be put into place within the next day or so.

                  They nodded, and resolved to cast the spell the next morning.

                  “I will be checking in every so often to reinforce the spells that I have put in place.” Dumbledore said as he turned to leave, “And I believe that Mr. Lupin and the Longbottoms said that they would be stopping by to give Harry their best.”

                  “Professor, won’t you stay?” Lily asked.

                  “I am afraid that I cannot join you today. Perhaps when next I come. Today, I must attend the trial of a Death Eater.”

                  “Who?” James asked.

                  “Severus Snape.”

                  Dumbledore left without another word, leaving the others stunned. Snape had once been Lily’s best friend, but he had changed.  They knew that he had turned to Voldemort, but the fact that he was facing a criminal trial, and perhaps Azkaban, was shocking. Lily averted her gaze, staring out of the window.

                  “So how about that broomstick?” Sirius said loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

                  “Oh, er... yeah.” James said. He took Harry from Lily and set him on the broomstick, which hovered less than a foot from the ground, just high enough for Harry’s toes to skim the carpet. Harry flew around the room, and James chased after him, an arm on either side of Harry to catch him if he fell. Lily watched and took pictures, laughing when the cat bolted out of the room because Harry had zoomed too close to her bed.

                  Sirius watched them from an armchair. _This is how things are supposed to be_ , he thought. James and Lily were supposed to be alive and happy. Harry was supposed to have living, loving parents. He, Sirius, was not supposed to be shut in Azkaban, away from his friends and family. He had a chance to change things in this – was it the past? A dream? The afterlife? Whatever it was, he wanted to do things right. _Wormtail, be damned._

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N]: Oh, Sirius, how I miss thee.


End file.
